


You Owe Me

by Desbelleschoses



Series: Roomates from Hell [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:39:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12719832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desbelleschoses/pseuds/Desbelleschoses
Summary: Hidan and Deidara meet up with their friends at a club in their college town. Deidara sets his sights on Sasori when he shows up unexpectedly. College AU.





	You Owe Me

Deidara leaned forward, putting his face close to the mirror as he swiped a fine brush across his waterline, coloring it black. He pulled back and dipped the brush back into the liquid eyeliner, picking up more pigment. Before he had a chance to finish his other eye, his roommate flung open the door to his bedroom.

“Well? Whaddya think?” Hidan struck a comical pose in his black pants, cocking his hip to the side. His necklace hung over his white tee-shirt, and he had his favorite leather jacket slung over his shoulder.

Deidara blinked once and turned away, focusing once more on his eyes. “You look like John Travolta in _Grease,_ hn.”

“And that’s…?”

Screwing the brush back into the base, Deidara glanced at him over his shoulder. “It works for you, but it makes me want to punch you in the face.” His hands ran through the ends of his hair, which he let hang loose down his back. “Find some girl in a pink jacket and a poodle skirt, and you’re set, hn.”

Hidan tilted his head like a puppy. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re making fun of me-”

“I’m not, hn,” Deidara deadpanned. “Now go away so I can finish getting ready.”

“Hurry up, Princess. We’re going clubbing, not to the royal ball,” Hidan sneered, and Deidara rolled his eyes.

He wanted to go out, but he hadn’t particularly wanted to bring Hidan along. Unfortunately, when Deidara invited Kisame, word spread like wildfire, and he was now roped into a group outing. He’d just have to do his best to have fun despite the company. If he was lucky, he might find someone to sneak off with before Hidan had one too many.

Giving his appearance a once-over in the mirror, Deidara decided that he was dressed acceptably for picking up drunk men. His red skinny jeans sat low on his hips, and his torso was covered by a black, net tank. He didn’t bother with a jacket; he was likely to lose track of it, so there wasn’t really a point. His wallet was slipped into his back pocket, and he exited his room to join Hidan. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

It didn’t take long to find their friends; Kisame was pretty much a walking tank, easily seen at the bar. Hidan snaked his way through the crowded club and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder in greeting, not bothering to try to shout over the EDM blaring through the speakers. Deidara slipped past him, finding room on his right side. His attention was on the crowd, scanning the room for anyone potentially attractive. Of course, as he drank, that number would increase, but it would be nice to get a baseline.

He didn’t notice that sickly friend of Kisame’s sitting beside him. Itachi looked Deidara up and down, lips drawn thin. While he did his best to be polite, he was already into his drinks, and uttered without a filter, “You look like a prostitute.”

Deidara’s head whipped to the side, blue eyes glinting in anger. When he saw that it was only Itachi, he changed tactics, grinning disarmingly at his slight. “Thank you,” he laughed, knowing that this reaction would creep under his skin more than rage would. Fuck that guy.

Itachi’s dark eyes blinked, and he turned back to the bar and his bottle. He never played along. The guy had a stick so far up his ass that he could be a scarecrow. Deidara snorted in derision. Thankfully, Kisame hadn’t heard the exchange over the music; he wanted the two of them to get along, but Deidara wasn’t having it. As far as he was concerned, Itachi was a pompous academic who would sooner die than skip a class. There wasn’t any substance to him.

Hidan sidestepped Kisame to stand in front of Deidara, blocking his view of the dance floor. He held a shot glass in each hand and offered one to his roommate. “Bottoms up!”

Never one to decline a free drink, Deidara threw his head back as he drank. The liquid seared down his throat and into his stomach with enough bite to make his eyes water. He coughed, clutching at his chest. Kisame hit him lightly on the back, trying to help him. “What the _fuck_ did you just give me?” Deidara wheezed.

“It’s just everclear, you pussy,” Hidan sneered. “Quit babying him, Kisame. He’s fine.”

“That’s a mixer. It says on the bottle not to drink it straight.” Itachi didn’t take his eyes off the wood below his arms.

“I trusted you!” Deidara beckoned the bartender over, desperate for anything he could get to chase the alcohol.

“Well, that was your first mistake,” Hidan laughed. He put a hand on Deidara’s shoulder. “Come _on_ , Princess. I’m fucking with you!”

Deidara knew, in the rational part of his mind, that Hidan hadn’t given him the drink with any malice. His roommate just forgot sometimes that, unlike him, not everyone was a sadomasochist. In effect, this was no different from the time Hidan had used their fridge to store (probably stolen) organs. He just needed to put his foot down. “ _Never_ do that again,” he ordered, narrowing his eyes.

Seeing now that he’d crossed a line, Hidan withdrew his hand. “Sorry, man.” He meant it, even if it came out as a scoff.

Even if it tasted like battery acid poured from a forge, the shot certainly did the trick. Once the wave of nausea passed, and Deidara had a chance to clear his throat, the extremely high alcohol content had begun to work its way through his body. Hidan bought him another shot, of his choice, to make up for his mistake. The pair clinked glasses and drank.

“Hey,” Deidara bumped Hidan’s shoulder. “Be my wingman, hn. Anybody looking this way?”

Hidan turned around and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. “Depends, you looking for ass or free drinks? ‘Cause the guy in the comic book shirt’s giving you the eye, but I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re a chick.”

The blonde turned up his nose. “No.” He didn’t even look. He didn’t see anything wrong with exploiting his androgyny, but he didn’t feel like playing that game tonight.

“Okay, then. Ass it is.” Hidan shrugged, unperturbed. He knew Deidara’s type, but, unfortunately, the club seemed to be mostly devoid of gay men. “You’re gonna have to get out there and get fucked up. I can’t tell if any of these bastards lean your way or not.”

“Some help you are,” Deidara grumbled.

“Not my fault you swing one way, Sunshine.”

“At least dance with me.” Hidan was the only one who would; he didn’t care for Itachi, and Kisame seemed to enjoy flirting with the brunette behind the bar. Deidara had experienced one too many bad nights at a club to go in unaccompanied. Drunken men could become violent when they figured out the woman they were trying to pick up was actually a man.

“You get one song out of me,” Hidan compromised, holding up his index finger. “Then it’s every man for himself.”

Hidan couldn’t dance. He knew for a fact that he couldn’t. Alcohol, however, could always convince his brain otherwise. Deidara had to reel him in every so often so that he didn’t trample the other patrons, but he was appreciative of his best friend’s devil-may-care attitude. His unique brand of brazen, unrestrained confidence had a way of lending Deidara some courage. Hidan helped him be bold.

One song turned to two, then three before Hidan headed back to the bar. Whether or not he had any intention of returning, Deidara didn’t know. His blue eyes followed his companion, widening slightly when he saw that their group had grown.

It was easy to recognize the two men dressed almost identically. Both wore high-tops, jeans, and flannel shirts; virtually the only difference was their skin color and the length of their hair. Deidara shouldn’t have been surprised that Zetsu – the code name the pair used when dealing – would be here. This club wasn’t exactly high class. It was, however, bizarre to see them both in the same place. No one knew their names, and they delighted in calling themselves Black and White Zetsu, just to push the buttons of racial discomfort, only to laugh when they flustered their newest customers. Deidara looked on as the pair clinked their beer bottles together before crossing arms and downing their drinks.

Hidan had inserted himself between Kisame and a man that Deidara hadn’t met before. Against his dark skin and even darker hair, the man’s green eyes were a stark contrast that couldn’t be missed. He stood a head above Hidan, and his stature was almost as broad as Kisame’s. His drunken mind began to connect the bits of conversations he’d had with his roommate, and he realized that the man must be Kakuzu. He bit back an appreciative whistle; his best friend had good taste.

The most surprising addition sat beside Itachi. He hadn’t taken Sasori for someone who would enjoy drinking or socializing, let alone going to a club. After their incident in the studio, they’d been cordial with one another, but neither of them spoke of it. The lack of closure was digging underneath Deidara’s skin, and he decided that now was as good a time as any to figure things out. He could always blame it on the alcohol.

He approached the bar with the intention of joining the others. Unexpectedly, the bartender slid a mixed drink over the wood, giving him a smile as she told him, “This is from him.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder to the man sitting at the opposite end of the bar. He was too old to be sitting in a college bar, clearly looking to pick someone up. Nevertheless, a drink was a drink, and Deidara graced the man with a wink before sitting down.

Whatever Deidara had in his hand was an unnatural shade of blue and almost sickeningly sweet. The high alcohol content cut through the taste as it went down, making it bearable if nothing else. Well, go big or go home, he supposed.

To his right, Sasori spoke, his voice disinterested despite his words. “You know that guy?”

“Never seen him before in my life,” Deidara admitted, capturing the straw between his lips.

“Are you interested?”

“What’s it matter to you, hn?” the blonde asked defensively, prickling. He relaxed when he remembered, or at least hoped, that he wasn’t being threatened. “No,” he informed the redhead. His eyes moved to the man, who was still staring at him unabashedly. “Not at all. But, if he wants to waste his money buying me alcohol, that’s on him.” He shrugged.

After a moment, Sasori wrinkled his nose in disgust. “What _is_ that?”

Deidara looked down at his drink. “No fucking clue. Wanna try?” He slid the glass over, holding back a laugh when Sasori prodded the contents a few times with the straw. Cautiously, the ginger pinched the straw between his thumb and index finger. He took a sip, and his eyes screwed shut in disgust.

“God, how can you drink that?” Sasori demanded, pushing the vile drink back to Deidara.

“It’s alcohol.” Deidara let himself laugh.

“You need better standards.”

He was probably right, but Deidara didn’t care to admit it. He’d had too much to drink to care. It was his lowered inhibition that told him to grab Sasori by the wrist and pull him off the barstool. “I want to dance,” he declared, pulling the confused artist behind him into the crowd.

Sasori stood awkwardly still when Deidara began to dance. This wasn’t something he _did_. He liked to stay inside and keep to himself. Even going to the club to drink was a stretch that took Itachi days to convince him to do. Fuck. Itachi. He had to be pissed that Deidara pulled him away like that. They hated one another enough already. There was a reason he hadn’t told his friend about his studio escapade.

Growing impatient, his dancing partner put his hands on Sasori’s hips, trying to physically move him along to the music. “You can’t call yourself an artist and not dance, hn,” Deidara challenged, looking him square in the eye.

“I can, and I do,” Sasori argued, even as he allowed the blonde to guide his movements. It would be easier to just appease him. “Dancing isn’t art. It’s sweaty and hot and temporary.”

Deidara rolled his hips into Sasori’s, grinning like the devil himself as he crooned, “Just like something else we’ve done.”

Sasori stammered, caught off guard by his partner’s forwardness. Deidara spun around and began to grind against him. Good lord, the man had no shame. He wondered if he wasn’t going to have a heart attack. Despite himself, he began to move to the music on his own, his movements complimenting Deidara’s. This wasn’t so bad. Deidara danced well enough to make up for his inconsistencies and missed steps.

Much to his relief, Deidara stopped with his verbal flirtations; his physical ones, however, had only just begun. Once Sasori gathered his wits, he became agitated by his lack of control over the situation. What resulted was a tug-of-war for dominance. Sasori was determined to take the lead, and he was almost certain that Deidara was fighting him just for the thrill of it. When his fingers dug into the tanned skin of Deidara’s hips, the blonde took a fistful of his hair and pulled, bringing their faces tantalizingly close. Sasori tried to close the gap, but his partner slipped out of his grasp like water, only to sweep up behind him.

The song ended all too quickly, and both men stood panting, barely an inch of space between their bodies. Deidara’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I need a drink.” In a flash, his hands were gone from Sasori’s body, and he left the ginger dumbfounded in his wake as he approached the bar. Too sober to deal with this night, Sasori followed quickly behind him.

Itachi had left for the night. Sasori felt a pang of guilt at that; he’d come on Itachi’s invitation, after all. He’d have to apologize the next time he saw his friend. The fact that he’d bailed to dance with a guy he disliked probably added insult to the injury. He would have to make that up to him. Maybe a coffee? Yeah, he’d bring him a coffee to their boring, core-level history class on Monday. That ought to do it.

Sasori was pulled from his thoughts when Deidara placed a shotglass in his hand. “Drink, hn,” he ordered, his eyebrows moving closer together. “You’re not as drunk as I am.”

“Do I have to be?” he retorted, still doing as he was told.

“Depends,” Deidara leered. “How drunk do you have to be to get an uber back to my place?”

“Not that drunk,” Sasori admitted before he could stop himself. Deidara grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him.

Sasori gave in.

His mouth made its way down Deidara’s neck, moving ever closer to his collarbone as the blonde fumbled with his cellphone. He enjoyed the way he jolted or squirmed when he bit down, which only made it take longer for their ride to be arranged. Thankfully, a Saturday night in a college town meant that they’d be on their way in a matter of minutes. Sasori wrapped his arm possessively around Deidara’s waist as they exited into the cold, night air, glaring at anyone who dared to look at them.

Once outside, Sasori heard a familiar voice snap, “No, get your own, you stingy bastard!”

Out of curiosity, he pulled Deidara along to look down the alley. Hidan was scowling and giving Kakuzu the bird; the other man looked bored. Hidan continued his rant, complaining, “If you wanted one, you should have brought some.” His tone implied mockery, as though Kakuzu had said this to him on a previous occasion.

“Idiot,” Kakuzu stated gruffly, narrowing his green eyes at his companion. His attention was drawn to the pair standing outside the alley, and he inquired dangerously, “What do you want?”

“Hey, Red!” Hidan called, laughing. “Princess! Fuck if I wasn’t right. You see that, Zu? I told you they’d fuck.” His crass wording made Sasori grimace, but Deidara was too far gone to care.

“I see,” Kakuzu drolled, giving Hidan the verbal confirmation he craved.

“Jealous, hn?” Deidara sneered in response, meeting his roommate blow for verbal blow.

“Of your vanilla ass?” Hidan snorted. “You wish.”

Their ride couldn’t have come at a better time. Sasori all but shoved Deidara in the back seat and climbed in after him. Before he had the chance to shut the door, Hidan cupped one hand around his mouth and called out, “Have fun, kids! Use a condom!”

Sasori took perverse pleasure in the elbow to the ribs that Kakuzu gave him.

* * *

 

Deidara shivered, curling in on himself. The left side of his body felt like ice. His head was pounding, and it was too difficult to open his eyes. After several tries, he managed to blink them open, his pupils dilating to adjust to the lack of light. Slowly, he pushed himself upright. He sat as he took stock of his situation. A quick look around told him that he was sitting on his bathroom floor. He was stripped down to his boxers, and his hair had been pulled back and tied off.

His fingers clung to the vanity as he pulled himself up, his knees weak. God, he felt like shit. Upon catching sight of himself in the mirror, he realized that he looked so much worse than he felt. He couldn’t be bothered to take off his makeup or wash his face at the moment. All he wanted was to lie down in bed. Gracelessly, he let his body fall onto the mattress.

The mattress grunted and rolled him off with a swear. “What the fuck is your problem?”

A very disgruntled redhead sat up to glare at him, but Deidara had rolled face-down onto his pillow. Somewhat afraid that he would suffocate, Sasori rolled him over onto his side. Deidara was slow to respond, but he was cognizant enough to respond to outside stimuli.

“I feel like shit,” he mumbled, flailing about in an effort to put himself beneath the blankets.

“I don’t doubt it,” Sasori chided, trying to help. “Would you stop? Just… fucking… _there_.” He threw up his hands when Deidara finally made his way under the covers, like he’d wanted.

Deidara narrowed his glassy eyes. “You came home with me last night,” he realized, putting the pieces together.

“I did.” Sasori confirmed. “You vomited on me in the uber.”

The blonde groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“I stayed to make sure you didn’t die. You were crying on your bathroom floor, saying something about Hidan. You said ‘fuck’ a lot.” He continued without waiting for an explanation. “Somehow, I got you undressed; you were acting like a horny toddler the whole time.”

“Do I want to know?”

“I wouldn’t let you in my pants. You threw a fit.” Sasori snorted, biting back his laughter at the memory. “You stomped your foot.”

Deidara prayed for Hidan’s twisted god to come down and kill him.

“I had to borrow some clothes.”

“Hn.”

“Aspirin?” Sasori offered him his bottle of aspirin, which was on his bedside table.

“You’re on my side,” Deidara grumbled, taking the bottle from his hand.

“What?”

After swallowing the pills, he repeated himself. “That’s my side.”

“You vomit on me, I stay to take care of you, and all you have to say is ‘that’s my side?’”

“Well, it is.”

Sasori pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve some of the pressure building in his head. He stood up from the bed and walked to the door. Before he had a chance to open it, he heard Deidara ask, “Are you leaving?”

There was disappointment in his tone. Sasori sighed. “I’m going to put our clothes in the dryer. You’re awake, so I can trust you not to accidentally kill yourself while I’m gone.”

With that, he left the bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind him. Hidan must not be home, Deidara assumed. He doubted that Sasori would have stayed if he was. Taking a moment to go through what he remembered of the night before, he did his best to connect the dots. By the time Sasori returned, he had a more tenuous grasp on the situation. The best he could think to offer was “I’m sorry.”

“For?” Whether Sasori was genuinely asking or if he was probing, Deidara didn’t know.

“Taking care of me isn’t exactly what you signed up for when you got a ride with me.” He turned to his companion. “Can you just… not tell anyone about this? I’d never live it down.”

With a slight smile, Sasori nodded. “Sure.”

“If you want to go home, I get it. But, if you want, I can order some breakfast, say thank you for not leaving me to die drunkenly in my apartment.”

Sasori considered his options. “I think you owe me a lot more than breakfast, but it’s a start.” He sat down on the bed, still on Deidara’s side, and handed him his cellphone. “Get something good, would you? Might as well get a jumpstart on paying me back.”


End file.
